


Gentle

by my_infinite_variety



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Emotional Hurt, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, No Dialogue, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_infinite_variety/pseuds/my_infinite_variety
Summary: This is no other like him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> this isnt really a tumblr prompt, but this so intertwined with the platform itself that I think it deserves an honorary spot  
> firstly, this came from a point of sadness and when i was done i sat and cried for a bit (i still am a little, if I'm honest)  
> secondly, i decided that I'm never writing dean's death scene. it hurt me too much and i just can't do it.  
> but i can write this little love letter to my boys. to dean, who loved too much, and cas, who both had too much time and too little.

There is no other like _him_.

Like the gentle angel walking the halls of your head, fingertips dragging against the walls and wings spreading ever so delicately.

Like the strong man that lays across your bed and doesn’t find sleep. The man who, instead, finds peace in the touch of your lips and the caress of your calloused hands.

There are many like you.

Rough and loud and crass and _angry_.

But no others have lain in the shadow cast by his light, body arching and arms reaching for just a taste.

You know this.

You know this because of the _thing_ you once held in the depths of your home.

You know this because it bared its teeth as it told of others like him, in different worlds and different lifetimes.

Others that were less broken, less loving.

Others that left you chained to the earth, under the weight of the world like a feeble imitation of Atlas. 

He isn’t _broken_ , not like you.

He doesn’t have jagged edges or hard muscles or calloused hands.

He is soft. 

He loves deeply. 

He holds you close in the night when the darkness feels suffocating and fire licks at your skin.

 _He isn’t broken_.

But he tells you pretty lies that feel like they could be true.

He tells you all of the things hidden deep in the shadows of your own mind, the very same ones he pried from dusty corners with gentle fingers.

He tells you things you don’t believe. 

He tells you things that make you angry.

He tells you things that make you smile in a twisted, sick way.

He is gone and they’re all you know, so you believe.

You clutch them close and whisper his name into the darkness that still feels _just_ too deep.

He thought you were beautiful.

He thought you were kind.

He thought you were _gentle_.

So you are.


End file.
